


Two of a Kind

by jenny_wren



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ceiling Vent Clint Barton, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-13
Updated: 2015-07-13
Packaged: 2018-04-09 01:38:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4328826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenny_wren/pseuds/jenny_wren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kink meme fill for Phil being a prankster along with Clint</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two of a Kind

Clint waited for a count of ten, considered how suspicious and dour-faced all the SHIELD agents he’d seen so far where, and made it a hundred. Then he over-rode the lock on his door, slid silently into the corridor and made straight for the vent hatch he’d noted on his way in.

Reassuringly SHIELD vents weren’t any more resistant to the screwdriver he kept in his boot than any other vents he’d ever come across. In fact the hatch popped free with almost suspicious ease. Clint decided to chalk that up to luck finally turning in his direction. With the last few days hovering somewhere between plain old disaster and mutated apocalypse, he was about due.

Shimmying inside, he pulled the hatch up after him and secured it in place with the incredibly helpful little flick switches, then squirmed along the vent until he reached a cross point where the ceiling was high enough to let him sit up. Settled into his cozy little nest, all his breath punched out of his lungs in an explosive sigh of relief as he finally felt safe for the first time since he’d found that sternly bland SHIELD agent waiting for him back at his supposedly secure hotel room.

Quickly though his sense of curiosity woke up and the need to explore winkled him out. He figured most of the problems in his stupid life could be blamed on his curiosity, but was that stopping him, no it was not. Clint was clearly an utter moron.

Still he kept crawling, pausing at each grille to cautiously peer out and try and gain a sense of where he was. Following wider corridors and an increasing flow of people he made his way towards where his nose told him he’d find the main break room and all the best gossip.

He wasn’t expecting to hear anything from within the ducts, and for a too long moment he didn’t realize he had. By the time he worked out the faint glug-hiss was coming from the cross-way ahead of him, it was too late and he’d stumbled right into the guy hidden there’s line of sight.

The guy’s head jerked around, he was clearly just as surprised as Clint had been, and Clint immediately recognized the bland-faced suit who’d shanghaied him half way across the world.

Except right now the guy might be wearing suit pants but his shirt was open at the neck and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and, as he recognized Clint, the blandness had vanished under a wicked smirk.

Clint blinked.

The suit lifted one finger to his lips for silence.

Clint wasn’t much for following orders but he didn’t want to draw any more attention to himself and he’d certainly learned to be wary of the man. He stayed quiet.

The suit winked conspiratorially and made a quick beckoning gesture with one hand.

His damn curiosity took over again and Clint crept cautiously forward.

The suit was fussing over a gurgling, hissing machine that was clearly not a natural feature of the duct.

“What the hell?” demanded Clint in a fierce whisper.

The suit put his finger to lips again. 

Clint shook his head irritably.

“Just watch.” 

The machine was clearly building to a crescendo; it was now loud enough that people in the break room below started to glance around, searching for the source of the odd noise. The suit flicked a switch and suddenly bubbles were boiling out of the machine to be channeled down two clear plastic pipes and out the main vent into the break room.

They were pretty bubbles, shimmering thick and oily in gleaming purples and red. The agents in the break room started to look and point, shouting in surprise and cooing with amazement, then the bubbles started to land and it all turned to howls of dismay as the bubbles popped to leave dark berry red stains.

The agents started to retreat, but the suit just grabbed the two pipes and started to aim them like a pair of hosepipes. The bubbles flew across the room to splat against anyone who’d dodged the first wave.

Eventually everyone managed to make it out the break room, the final agent slamming the door closed with a vicious curse.

“Wow,” said Clint, in awe at the complete mayhem so casually created.

“Semi-permanent,” grinned the suit. “Take ‘em at least half-a-dozen showers to get the stains off.”

“That was _evil_ ,” and Clint meant that in the most complimentary way possible.

The suit grinned deviously and leaned in close to whisper, “That wasn’t evil.”

His breath was hot against Clint’s ear and Clint could almost feel his dark amusement coil around him.

“No?” Clint stalled, as he backed away.

“No,” said the suit, his eyes full of mischief, “ _this_ is evil,” his hands darted forward, there were two loud clicks, and suddenly Clint found himself falling through the air as the grille beneath him gave way.

He had enough time to realize what was happening and brace himself so he took the force through his legs, but he still landed with an almighty crash.

The door to the break room flew back open, and an agent, whose disposition had clearly not been improved by the multiple red splotches across his face, took one look and howled, “BARTON!”

Glancing up, Clint saw his suit wink slyly before vanishing into the dark security of the vent. Stitched up as neat as you please, Clint could only laugh helplessly as the angry horde descended.


End file.
